


More at One with Nature

by kindofspecificstore



Series: Not Your Average High School AU [1]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: (mostly david overthinking), Alternate Universe - High School, Anxious David Rose, Best Friends Stevie Budd & David Rose, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, SC Sports Fest, a lil bit of fluff a whole lot of cute, it's high school but they're on a canoe trip, oops almost everyone is queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25438501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindofspecificstore/pseuds/kindofspecificstore
Summary: “Canoeing???” David’s voice goes up an octave.At this point the only person left in the entry way is pale boy with auburn hair, wearing a baseball-style shirt with blue sleeves. He’s unlacing some sturdy looking mountaineering-type shoes, and looks back at David. His smile is much kinder than Stevie’s, but his eyes are just as wide.“Yup, canoeing.” He parrots back at him.(This is not your average high school AU.)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Stevie Budd & David Rose
Series: Not Your Average High School AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853398
Comments: 78
Kudos: 123
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	1. Schitt's Creek Outdoor School

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> The school in this fic is loosely based off my own high school program, as are David's canoe-related anxieties. 
> 
> Basically, the Roses own Interflix (Johnny made some smart decisions when video stores tanked) and are still filthy rich. David mistakes an alternative school in the woods for a fancy art program, and it goes just as well as you might expect.

**CHAPTER 1: SCHITT’S CREEK OUTDOOR SCHOOL**

“UGH. David, there’s like no reception wherever you are. You keep freezing up.”

“Mkay it’s a parking lot Alexis, I’m not even in the woods yet,” David rolls his eyes. He’s waving his phone around, up on his tip toes, as if that might yield a better reception.

“But how does a school not have a good wifi situation? Don’t you need it to like- I don’t know, do a computer course?” Even though the blurry image on his phone is jumpy, he can tell Alexis has her own device propped up so she can properly file her nails. Switzerland is a good five or six hours ahead, and god knows where his sister was headed any given time of day.

“Does yours? You’re the one who convinced mom and dad you deserved fancy boarding school.”

“David you know mom just wanted to keep you close to home incase the bullying started up again.”

“It was a passive aggressive whisper campaign, and it was not _that_ bad.”

“Whatever you say David.” Alexis draws her attention back to her cuticles. “Could be a cute look for you though. High school in the middle of the woods, maybe find a handsome, rugged lumberjack person?”

“It’s only a half hour from the country house. And please, can you imagine _this,”_ David manically gestures to his upper body _,_ “in the middle of the woods?! It’s almost like that hunting party Elton invited me to.”

David peeks beyond his phone at the tree line that hugs the gravel parking lot. Eventually, he’ll have to walk under that tacky wooden archway leading into the rest of the camp. Camp of course was a loose term that only applied in the summer months. The banner strung in the entryway read “Schitt’s Creek Outdoor Education Centre.” _Ew._ Alexis calls him back to the present.

“David you said you were done with nature after you met me in Norway last week to hand over new contacts at the consulate.”

“Exactly! And that little trip cost me the first week of school. Now I’m stuck in this fucking program.”

“How exactly is this my fault?!”

David is too busy fuming at _just how wrong_ Alexis is about the whole situation to notice a kind and gentle presence from behind. Someone places a hand on his shoulder, clearing their throat.

“God!”, David jumps, his phone falling out of his hand and onto dusty, over-treaded gravel.

The man before him is smiling expectantly, hands clasped together, eyes piercing with what seems like concern and enthusiasm. (He’s clearly much more excited to be there than David).

David grimaces.

“Hi.”

The man breaks into a smile with all his teeth. He’s wearing a polo shirt, khakis, and crocs. (Crocs!)

“Hi! Sorry to interrupt your call, but I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you David Rose?”

David’s grimace somehow grows as he crouches down in attempt to rescue his phone.

“Uh huh.”

This man almost bounces in excitement.

“Wonderful! I’m Ray,” he extends his right hand to shake David’s. David lazily switches the hand holding his phone, ignoring the tinny echo of his sister’s video call, and takes “Ray” ’s hand in return. Ray continues, smile somehow still plastered on his face.

“We’re so excited to have you with us for this semester of school. All the other students of course started last week and have already gotten to know each other, but I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Ray,” David tries his name on for size. (He doesn’t like it. Is this man a _teacher_ here?) “Am I in the right place? I thought I registered for an art intensive semester.”

Ray nods, clasping his hands back together agin. He seems like the kind of grown man who would visit Disneyworld unironically. 

“Oh you are! English and art are only my half of the courses, but we market to the more _creative_ students just to make sure we don’t have a class full of Boy Scouts. As you can see,” Ray turns and gestures to the rest of the parking lot, ignoring the beautiful vintage David drove to campus in. “The bus from the public high school already arrived some time ago, so we best get going if you want to make the end of morning circle.”

David barely has time to take in the disgusting yellow school bus sitting in the parking lot before he registers what Ray is asking of him.

“Morning circ- I’m sorry, have I been indoctrinated into a cult?”

Ray shrugs, effectively ignoring him. He’s still smiling. 

“Welcome to Schitt’s Creek Outdoor School!”

Ray places a hand on David’s back, gently pushing him forward in the space between his shoulder blades. It’s too bad his backpack has been sitting on the hood of his car, or else he could easily ask to retrieve it from inside and simply drive away. (It wouldn’t be the first time David has driven away, but given how much it’s become a pattern, he tells himself not to risk it this time.) Slinging his bag over one shoulder, he heads with “Ray” (is he seriously a teacher?) through the cursed archway. It feels like he’s Lindsay Lohan in _The Parent Trap,_ though having both a twin and Alexis for siblings sounds like a handful.

The gravel pathway continues into a fork. On their left, it goes into a luscious vegetable garden sprawled in front of a large log cabin (it’s all _very_ Parent Trap), the path veering to the right outlines a small field, where a group of other teenagers are standing in what David can only assume to be “morning circle.” (Still ew). His Rick Owens have enough of a crunch on the pathway for the group to notice. The two girls closest to the path see David and Ray coming, opening up space for them to join. One is in a flowery sundress and sneakers, hair in a high ponytail. She smiles, as if she’s happy to see them. The other is in a wrinkly flannel and ripped jeans, loose dark hair framing an amused smirk. Her eyes trail up and down, taking note of David’s pristine monochrome. He squints back at her, screaming _I thought this was an art school at picturesque retreat centre,_ with his mind. 

She all but guffaws.

David averts her gaze, trying to comb through the rest of his presumed classmates. He’s interrupted by an older man at the opposite side of the circle, in a scraggly goatee and baseball cap, holding a thermos of what he hopes is coffee. He clears his throat.

“Thanks so much for finally joining us, champ. I thought you were going to keep driving and end up at the golf course.” He sucks in some odd kind off laugh. The girl wrinkly plaid smirks, but no one seems as amused as this teacher.

“I’m Roland. I’m the groundskeeper and I teach the outdoor activities class. Everyone please give a warm welcome to David Rose, our new student.”

David winces and raises a finger, opening his mouth before he can stop himself. 

“I’m not actually new though.”

Roland rolls his eyes. “Haven’t even started the day and some one already wants to use the talking stick. Alright kids, I’m sending you inside for English class with Ray. I’ll see you after lunch when we hop into the lake.”

Hop into the lake? What does hop into the lake mean?? David’s eyes are the size of golfballs. The circle breaks up as everyone goes to grab their backpacks. Ray turns around towards the large cabin, leading the group. David is frozen, watching. Among the throngs (Okay it’s closer to twelve people.) (But it still feels like a throng.), a very tall, very handsome boy in plaid passes him, smiling and winking. Why was every other person wearing plaid?? He notices most people are wearing sneakers or Birkenstocks, and clad in the only kind of polyblend fabric David deems appropriate (athleisure, obviously). 

He feels a sharp nudge in his ribs. An elbow, from the girl beside him.

“Hey,” her voice practically monotone. “You should probably close your mouth. Bug might fly into it.”

“Ew!” David’s mouth effectively shuts, following her along the path as they trail behind the other students. “What is this fucking place?” David whispers to her.

She looks up at him innocently and blinks. “I’m sorry were you hoping this was a bad mushroom trip?”

“Mm no thanks. I just saved my sister from a _Midsommar_ -esque adventure and I’d rather not relive that.”

She snickers. She thinks it’s funny.

“I’m Stevie,” she grips her hands on her messenger bag, lowering her voice. “I brought a joint with me for lunch, but I think it should be saved for another day.”

David narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re dangling weed in the face of some one you just met, but refuse to share?”

At this point they’ve reached the door leading into the cabin. A _cabin._ Stevie is unmoving.

_“_ Not that you don’t seem cool, but I wouldn’t recommend canoeing while high.”

David is left hanging in the door frame, bag slumped at his feet. Stevie is pulling of her shoes (why?) and turning to head down the hall, following suit with everyone else.

“Canoeing???” David’s voice goes up an octave.

At this point the only person left in the entry way is pale boy with auburn hair, wearing a baseball-style shirt with blue sleeves. He’s unlacing some sturdy looking mountaineering-type shoes, and looks back at David. His smile is much kinder than Stevie’s, but his eyes are just as wide. 

“Yup, canoeing.” He parrots back at him. 

_Fuck._


	2. Classmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Experiential education: a philosophy of education that describes the process that occurs between a teacher and student that infuses direct experience with the learning environment and content. (In this case, the great outdoors)

**CHAPTER 2: CLASSMATES**

So English class hadn’t been _that_ bad. It looked like any other classroom might- blue walls, a white board, laminated posters about the power of writing. The only thing was everyone had to sit at tables instead of having actual desks. David had sat with Stevie, and bright sundress girl who he learns is named Twyla. Ray had ceremoniously planted a stack of books in front of him. _To Kill A Mockingbird_ is an unnecessary repeat, and David’s already read Margaret Atwood, Tomson Highway for fun. But luckily, _Inconvenient Indian_ is a new title to him. English class had been unfortunately long due to Ray’s enthusiasm for reading aloud. He ended up getting the class to draw while he reads Harper Lee ( _What are we, third graders?_ ) so to make up for the time they would’ve spent doing art.

David Rose doesn’t care. He gets to lose himself in the pages of his sketchbook.

Stevie had to elbow him to get him out of his seat so they could leave for lunch. Lunch back at public school would mean the cafeteria or driving to the mall food court across the street. Lunch at outdoor school means… the outdoors?

They’re welcome to eat wherever they want, so long as it’s on property. (Which means David can’t drive off anywhere. Not that he’d be able to get that far anyways.)

Stevie guides David down the path that goes by the field where they had morning circle, into a bit of wood that meets a small river. They sit on a creaky wooden footbridge, overlooking the gentle stream.

“So do we actually canoe in this water?” David asks, not finished working on his sketch from art/english class. It looks a little too shallow to support a boat, let alone a boat with a whole person in it.

Stevie snorts and looks down at her sandwich (turns out she did bring real food). “Hell no. Though I wouldn’t put it past Roland to just throw us to the current. There’s a big pond at the other end of the bridge,” She says, pointing to the grassy narrows on the other side. “That’s where we practice.”

David’s eyebrows scrunch together. “Practice for what? Are they going to make us _race_ or something?”

Stevie fails to hide her amusement. “No one told you about the canoe trip we have to go on in two weeks?”

“You’re fucking kidding.”

A canoe trip??? Does this mean _camping_??? The last boat David was in was a yacht. The last time David was surrounded by “nature” was in Central Park. Stevie doesn’t have time to answer. They’re conversation is interrupted by a gaggle (yes, a gaggle) of sweaty boys, laughing and running along the river bank.

“Hey!” A cute blond one stops and waves. His smile is almost as enthusiastic as Ray’s. “You guys wanna join capture the flag?” David’s chin pulls back in distaste. Luckily, Stevie is quick to answer for the both of them.

“Thanks Ted, but we’re allergic to team sports.”

Ted shrugs, still caring but not too broken up about their rejection.

“Suit yourself.” 

The tall and handsome one glances behind his shoulder, hitting Ted on the arm. “They’re coming, man”

“Oh darn!”

Ted, tall and handsome, and a boy in a denim shirt and hair in his face (Alexis would probably say he’s handsome in a homeless sort of way) keep running. Stevie grumbles, finally having enough peace to bite into her sandwich.

“Thank you. There was no way I was going to frolic through the woods with them.”

“Oh yeah? You seem pretty taken by men of the outdoors.”

His eyes squint, trying to parse what she means.

“I’m taken by _all_ people actually. Just preferably not the outdoors? That I could do without. I thought I was here for a specialized art school.”

Thankfully Stevie doesn’t miss a beat.

“Oh you are. You just haven’t seen Jake’s chainsaw sculptures yet.”

“Who’s Jake?”

Stevie raises an eyebrow and takes another bite of sandwich. 

“Hey guys,” calls a honey voice behind them. David whips his head around to see a girl in high waisted jean shorts coming up the other side of the bridge, wearing a soft green t-shirt with a French tuck. She’s granola, but she’s cute. Straight red hair spills past her shoulders, drifting in the breeze. She comes closer, followed by the cute pale boy in the mountaineering shoes. (Were they just holding hands?) She grabs a seat beside David, smiling warmly.

“I’m Rachel.” She says, folding her hair behind her ear. Cute pale boy takes a moment before sitting down to join everyone. Rachel’s eyes peer down at David’s open sketchbook. He's been working on a drawing of Scout Finch and Dill

“Wow these are really beautiful, David. Patrick, have you seen these?”

_Patrick._ Patrick leans over to look at David’s work. Normally, he wouldn’t be inclined to share with strangers, but given that they’re about to go canoeing this afternoon, he may as well dig up street cred wherever he can.

David shrugs and flips his wrist. “It’s nothing, just some rough ideas.”

David know it’s not _nothing_. He’s gotten into figure drawing that turns into trees and plants. Or plants that look like bodies. (You can only sketch roses so many times until your former art teacher tells you to stop with the self portraits.) But David knows he’s good. In his current work in progress, Scout and Dill's hands are morphing into interconnected vines. 

Rachel gasps softly, palms opening, asking if she can take David’s sketchbook in her hands. She leans over to Patrick, “Do you see how clean that silhouette is? There isn’t even any shading.”

Cute and pale Patrick nods, frowning slightly. “Yeah, I see it.”

Rachel doesn’t question him further, but David might need some clarifications. She hands him back his sketch book, and tells them about the beautiful walk they went on through the forest. Rachel is sweet, but not in an overly nice way. She has this grounded airiness about her, like some one enjoying a sunset. Patrick’s arms hang loose over the bridge, chin resting on the wood. They’re both pretty people, but not the kind of pretty arts school people David was expecting. (Stevie is much more the moody arts school type, and she doesn’t even have any piercings). Rachel’s going on about something to do with a maple tree, when a large whistle echoes over the riverbank. David’s shoulders hike up to his ears. From what seems like the field, Roland’s voice echoes through the property.

“Okay lunch time’s over, everyone to the pond. To the pond, let’s go!”

“Is he going to yell that every afternoon?” David winces in disgust. 

Stevie helps him up to his feet. “Pretty much.”

They walk to the side of the bridge where Rachel and Patrick came from, over to a grassy patch lined neatly with upside-down canoes. They are the first ones there.

“Do we just wait until everyone else comes traipsing through the forest?”

Patrick shoves his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts, nodding.

“I mean you could go track them down individually if you think that’d be more efficient.”

David squints at him.

“Some one’s very sure of themselves.”

Patrick shrugs. Stevie and Rachel share a smile. Apparently David has started something. 

“I mean if you won’t want to wait you can always hop in and start paddling.”

“Mm yea I don’t play kayak.”

Rachel laughs, gently correcting him. “Kayak _ing.”_

“Yeah kayaking involves much more coordination,” Stevie adds. David exhales out of his nose. (Unfortunately Patrick also finds this funny.) Apparently David’s lack of connection with nature is becoming too obvious to ignore.


	3. An Aversion to Boats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canoe: a narrow, keelless boat with pointed ends, propelled by a paddle or paddles. 
> 
> Luckily Patrick knows how to do this properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was simultaneously the easiest and hardest chapter to write, and what originally inspired this monstrosity of a fic. I absolutely love canoeing, but in the past I've had anxiety take that away from me. I thought David might have similar feelings.

**CHAPTER 3: AN AVERSION TO BOATS**

David’s hands are glued tightly to the paddle. If he had longer nails, they’d be piercing into the wood. No matter how still he tries to sit, he can feel every single micro shift the boat makes. He thinks he hears Ted encouraging him to paddle, but he can’t, he can’t do it. His body is frozen in place, and his breath is caught in his chest. Forcing air to go further down his rib cage is painful and pointless. His eyes are unfocused, darting everywhere but the water. Classmates laugh and talk around him, and he can hear paddles purposefully dig into the water, occasionally scraping the side of a canoe. Ted paddles very very loudly, and often hits the side of the boat.

“You okay there, David?”

Ted’s voice sounds garbled, distant. He tries to open his mouth to reply, but grinding his teeth together is one of the things that’s helping David keep breathing.

“Hmm?” Is all he manages to get out. 

“It’s just that you kinda need to paddle if we’re going to get anywhere.”

David tries to count to ten before answering. He lets out a shaky “um,” because Ted is probably annoyed with him by now and he needs to somehow convey how sorry he is that he can’t make this boat fucking move. That he doesn’t want to make this boat fucking move.

David’s vision starts to blur. Cognitive dissonance, right? If he doesn’t see the water, he’s not actually floating in it.

He hears a small splash from behind- a paddle being pulled out of the water, accompanied by a quiet mutter of “here we go.”

Here we go what? Here we go _again_? Has Ted _always_ been paired with a shitty person during canoe practice? David keeps his eyes shut, willing the tears to be kept in. All he hears is the soft lapping of pond water, then suddenly feels a soft bang on the boat’s right side.

“What the fuck!”, he shudders, dropping the paddle to suddenly grip at the boat’s sides. He can’t open his eyes yet, but at least he’s still able to breathe.

“You’re okay.”, says a voice that is not Ted.

There’s a slight rocking of the canoe. David doesn’t dare move. He hears footsteps on the bottom of the boat, and there’s a voice behind his ear. Ted speaks low and soft, making sure David takes in every word.

“David, we’re linking up with another boat so you can be with some one who’s better at steering.” Ted puts a tentative hand on his shoulder, and David can’t tell if he can welcome touch right now. “You’re going to be okay.”

There are two more steps behind them, and the canoe dips ever so slightly. He hears Ted’s knees crack as he stands up, then feels him swing his leg over into the other boat that was kind enough to _crash_ into them. _You’re leaving me?_ His brain screams. A hand slaps their canoe twice, as if some one is departing a Manhattan taxi. If only David could be in one of those right now instead. He registers the other boat gently scrape theirs as it drifts away, and David feels a sense stillness.

The canoe is completely still. It doesn’t rock back and forth. He can still hear his classmates in the distance, but there are no paddles thwacking water around him. He can slowly peel open his eyes and send a clean breath down to his belly, but his hands remain firmly gripped on the sides of the canoe, white knuckling the aluminum. His paddle is splayed in his lap, the top part resting on the bar in front of him. Still no sound of paddling.

“I didn’t know I had to do art when I signed up for this,” comes the voice from behind him. It’s just as steady as the canoe. “I wanted to take the sustainability class for business program requirements.”

David can feel his fingers start to soften, and he slowly attempts to pry them off the rim of the boat. “Yeah?”, he encourages, voice if only a whisper.

“Yep,” the mystery steerer continues. “My family goes camping every summer so the outdoors part also seemed like fun.”

David focuses on his breathing, trying to encourage more movement in his fingers.

“My family would do no such thing.”

He hears a chuckle from behind him. At least this person finds him amusing. When David looks up, he realizes that they’ve drifted further towards the edge of the pond, more secluded, under some low hanging trees.

“Hey David, can you turn around for me?”

David presses his palms down to steady himself, slowly craning his head behind him.

And there’s cute, pale Patrick. He’s got one arm draped over the paddle in his lap, the other confidently reaching skyward, firmly gripping a tree branch to keep their canoe in place. His warm brown eyes seem to bore into David’s soul, but he’s calm and doesn’t devour him with his concern. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on in your head right now?” Patrick’s mouth pricks up in the corner, patient, edging on a smile.

David’s jaw creaks open as he tries to find the words.

“It’s just a lot.”, is all he can say, ending his statement more like a question. Patrick raises his eyebrows.

“Like I’ve never done anything like this before. Any sudden movement freaks me out and makes it feel like we’re going to tip over.”

“Not if I’m steering.” Patrick winks at him.

Any hope of forming coherent sentences has now been lost. “O-okay?”

Patrick exhales easily, one hand still casually holding onto the tree branch. 

“We’ve got some time before we have to get back on the bus, but I won’t start paddling again ’til you’re ready.”

David takes another deep breath. They’ve seem to have steadied out at this point, but he’s still at a loss for words. He looks up at Patrick. “You can keep paddling,” he feels himself say, voice small.

Patrick leans a little forward, as if he’s double checking for David’s consent.

“Okay,” Patrick whispers.

The second Patrick lets go of the tree branch, both hands are on his paddle. He doesn’t have to glance at the pond to see where it goes. Wood breaks cleanly into water as he looks straight ahead.

“Y’know it always helps me to stare at the horizon, focus on the direction we’re going.” He looks down at David and _winks_ again. It must be the afternoon sun, because David’s cheeks are growing hot.

“Right,” he smiles, slowly turning around to face the forest that surrounds the pond.


	4. Packing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie "helps" David pack for trip. A certain soap star may grace them with her presence.

**CHAPTER 4: PACKING**

“It just looks funky is all I’m saying,” Stevie says, holding up the loose black fabric David had tried _thrice_ to fit in his assigned trip bag.

She sits on his bed, still in her high tops, eyeing the pile of sweaters delicately littered before her. They had been arguing about clothing for most of the afternoon, while David attempted to pack last minute for the canoe trip.

David rolls his eyes at her. It’s become a love language amongst the two of them. That and Stevie will trade her angry abstract charcoal sketches for David’s clean, fine line ones when they sometimes get high at lunch. 

“And all I’m saying, is one _army duffel_ doesn’t have enough room for my cashmere.”

David almost gags at remembering Roland’s instructions for packing. _There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing._ It took a lot of restraint (and a strong elbow from Stevie) to not tell his teacher to take a look in the mirror. 

“Well it’s not as if you’re dressing to impress anybody.” She blinks up at him. David grumbles and rolls up the soft slate grey piece in his hands. He doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We made out one time after Roland made us do that tree walk as a team building exercise. I’m pretty sure that was just adrenaline.”

Stevie snorts. “Uh huh. I’m over you and you know it.”

“Mhm because some one’s got their eyes on Jake.”

“Please. The guy knows how to use a chainsaw. I’d be the first one dead in that horror movie.”

“Well that’s a little dark,” he says, shoving another sweater into his duffel. Stevie rips the bag from his hands, trying to get his full attention.

“I’m talking about Patrick, obviously.”

David stills, processing. 

“Wh-why would you be talking about him?”

Stevie shrugs, pulling at her shoelaces. She’s a woman of few words. “You just seem more calm when he’s around.”

“He’s the only who treats me like a regular person. Last time Ray asked me to show my latest sketch in class, he described it as haunting. Haunting, Stevie! That’s normally reserved for your work.”

“You’re changing the subject, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” David huffs, trying to shove the preliminary collection of sweaters around in his duffel to make more room. “Everyone just skirts around me like I’m made of glass. We get it. I’m the rich kid who’s only wilderness pyrotechnical experience is the outdoor pizza oven I got for my half birthday last year.”

Stevie’s jaw drops. “You’ve had a pizza oven this whole time and you didn’t think to tell me???”

David winces. “Yeah but it’s at the beach house.”

Stevie groans and flops back on the black and white bedspread. She doesn’t know why she tries with him. His bed is so comfy (it’s probably the thread count) she starts doing snow angels. Stevie’s about to open her mouth when a sultry, distant voice wafts in from from the hallway.

“Oh there you are David.”

Moira Rose stands in in the doorway, clad in leather gloves and some asymmetrical gold jumpsuit. Stevie flops to a seated position, jaw dropping. It’s the first time she’s seeing David’s mother in person. David barely looks up.

“Hi, can I help you?” He raises an eyebrow, but continues attempting to delicately shove everything in his duffel. Moira presses on.

“Is it such a crime to visit my firstborn in his personal sanctuary? I was just about to give Cindy a blowout, when it occurred to me I didn’t know-“ Moira suddenly notes David is not alone in his room.

“Why hello you,” she smiles warmly at Stevie. “I didn’t notice my David had new familial attachments in his life.” She takes in Stevie’s ripped jeans from the target sale rack and washed out Sarah McLachlan t-shirt. “You must be-“

“Stevie,” she smirks, beginning to realize just where David gets his _je ne sais quoi_. 

Moira’s head snaps back to her son. “She’s spooky but I like her. David is this your new-“ she lazily gestures a finger back and forth between the two of them, probably searching her mental thesaurus for something close to “girlfriend.” Stevie snickers.

“No one asked you, and no. She isn’t. Now if you’ll please excuse us I need to finish packing before we have to get up at some _ungodly_ hour to get on a _bus_ to go on a _camping trip_ in the middle of _nowhere.”_

Moira pouts, forgetting why she originally came in the room. “Well if you insist,” she retreats. “Oh and David,” she says softly as she reaches the doorframe. “My assistant booked you that appointment you asked for. We will see what’s going on in that beautiful little prefrontal cortex of yours, yes?”

David sighs dramatically, trying to shoo her out. “Don’t you have to go give Cindy a blowout?”

Moira nods vigorously and steps back out into the hall.

“Ugh.” David grumbles. “Sorry about that. She’s taking the week off after a press tour and hasn’t seen me in a while. I guess when Roland called her about my first,” he cringes, “ _canoe episode_. She got kind of. Helicoptery?”

Stevie raises an eyebrow trying to understand what the problem is. “Soooo you haven’t seen your mom since school started, and her telling you she found you a therapist is being a helicopter parent?”

David sniffs, shrugging. “Sort of, yeah.”

“I mean my family’s coping mechanism is alcohol and not talking to each other.”

He smiles ruefully. “That sounds nice,” folding in the water proof cover of his duffel. It’s _finally_ packed.

Stevie looks up and scoots closer to him, trying to make eye contact. “I think it’s great that your parents are supporting you with this.” David rolls his eyes again and sits on the bed beside her.

“Thanks it’s just-“ David exhales through his nose, head tipping back to find a point on the ceiling. “I’ve always felt like an anxious person but- this semester has _really_ brought that out in me. I don’t do cardio, I’m afraid of heights, I can’t fucking paddle a canoe. I just feel really stupid, Stevie.”

She somehow scoots closer. “But you know who _can_ paddle a canoe?”

David looks back at her and narrows his eyes. “Don’t.”

“Pa-trick”, Stevie sounds the syllables of his name out slowly, batting her eyelashes at him. He throws his packed-to-the-brim duffel at her, which only makes Stevie giggle.

“What! He’s a very eligible, competent young wilderness explorer.”

“I know that. I just don’t think he’s for me.”

“David!” She hits him on the arm, “You guys paddle together every time we’re out on the pond! I head the two of you talking about _books._ For _fun_.”

“Because he probably feels sorry for me! Besides, minus that one time time Ted insisted we spend our free time _tree climbing_ -ew- he spends every lunch hour with Rachel.”

Stevie rolls her eyes and throws a hand through the air. _As if that means anything._

_“_ I think they dated for hot second when we all started high school. But who cares? You’ve got a whole five days with no wifi signal to find out.”

David nods slowly, trying not to fixate on the no wifi signal, and imagine all that time he gets to spend in the Ontario wilderness. No “school,” just Ray reading aloud to them by campfire and afternoons alone by the lakeshore to work on their art. And in the spaces between, he would get to sit in a boat and stare at the horizon, listening to a gentle, steady voice tell him about arbitrary things like baseball and summer camp. _Patrick’s_ voice. 

Maybe five days wouldn’t be so bad.


	5. Things Morning People Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning of the canoe trip finally arrives! They just have to take a five hour bus ride to get there.

** CHAPTER 5: THINGS MORNING PEOPLE DO **

David sighs and brings his machiatto to his lips. Being at school at 5:30 am should be illegal. Public school buses should also be illegal. But there’s no turning back now. He watches Roland outside of the bus with a clipboard, checking off names as people hug goodbye to their parents and climb aboard the giant yellow monstrosity. (Such things should only be reserved for Degrassi)

Unfortunately, neither parent can see him off today. And why should they? They know he’s coming back, right? He takes a long sip of coffee, then a deep breath. His first therapy appointment is after class gets back from trip, so unfortunately there’s no magic pill that will make it easier. At least he can have one more Starbucks before he’s dragged to this particular centre of hell.

He puts on his sunglasses and climbs delicately out of the car, reaching back to grab his duffel bag.

_Here we go._

“Dave! Good morning bud!” Roland taps his arm with his clipboard. He’s wearing a very unflattering wool sweater.

David grimaces, “Is it though?”

Roland smiles, a look the class has learned means he is about to impart sage advice. He puts his arm around David, lowering his voice. “Listen, I know this trip is going to be out of your bubble, but bubbles were meant to be popped.”

“Uh huh.” Is all David can manage at this ungodly hour. He climbs the bus, searching for Stevie. There’s no way he can survive a five hour drive with anyone else. People nod half awake “good mornings” to him as he scans across the seats. The entire back half of the bus is taken up by canoes, paddles, wanigans, and duffel bags, all being organized by their sustainability teacher, Ronnie, and a mystery blonde woman. Ronnie walks up the aisle, hands outstretched in front of her.

“Pass it here, David.” She says, reaching for his duffel bag. “Don’t worry, you can sleep on the way up. Unless you’re a fan of Bob’s Abba cd collection.” 

David shudders and passes his bag to Ronnie, desperate for more coffee. Luckily there’s a familiar gravel voice calling him a few seats back. 

“Morning sunshine.” He turns to see Stevie, feet sprawled out and taking up an entire bus seat, hair hiding in her trademark maroon hoodie. David gestures for her to remove her dirty shoes, and slides in beside her.

“I can’t believe you take this thing to school everyday,” he grimaces. She scowls and grabs the coffee out of his hands, chugging it.

“Hey!”

“Well not everyone’s parents own Interflix,” Stevie grumbles quietly. David rolls his eyes. They’re both equal amounts of grumpy. It’s an unspoken agreement that they can spend the bus ride in comfortable silence. David glances out the window through his sunglasses, and sees a mom and dad talking to Roland. One is in a navy button down, the other in a robin’s egg cardigan. He doesn’t have to guess who just got dropped off. His eyes trail to the door to see Patrick climbing confidently up the steps, in a dry fit t-shirt that’s basically the same colour as his parents’ clothing combined. Maybe if he had more energy, more confidence, David could ask to sit with him. Patrick’s eyes lock in David’s direction. _Oh no._ And he breaks into a smile. 

“Morning!” Calls a sunny voice from behind him. He looks back. Of course it’s Rachel, waving at him. Of course she’s just as excited as Patrick is to get lost in the fucking wilderness. Of course they’re both morning people. Of course of course of course. He walks towards their section of the bus. Just as Patrick is sliding in beside Rachel, he hears him whisper, “Morning David,” which will be enough to keep David Rose awake and overthinking for the first leg of the bus ride.

As Roland climbs onto the bus, Bob the Bus Driver (as everyone in the class who takes the bus to Schitt's Creek everyday calls him) (which is everyone except David), gets up from his seat and excitedly rubs his hands together. 

“Hope you kids like Abba.” Bob says, with a gesture resembling finger guns. David groans and slides further down in his seat. He thinks he may have heard a chuckle from the seat behind him. 

And with that, the bus rumbles awake to _People Need Love_. 

Dancing Queen, coffee and anxious energy is enough to keep David awake, Stevie not so much. She’s asleep before the bus leaves city limits. The sky begins to fill with reds and purples as they pull onto rural Canadian highway. David actually enjoys the view. It’s one of the things that make going to an alternative school easier; a commute filled with trees and farmer’s fields. Though he might never say it out loud, he’d much prefer this drive to being in a town car in the midst of Manhattan’s rush hour. They pass fields with horses and hay bails, small and colourful farmhouses dotting the land. It’s _nice._ Maybe he’ll stay at the country house after the semester is done. _Maybe._

He tries to ignore the gentle chatter from the seat behind him. Unfortunately the only technology that’s allowed on this trip are the satellite cell phones that the teachers have for emergencies, so David is without his own music to provide a distraction.

“My parents bought a little toy canoe for him, to help explain why I would be gone.”, he overhears Rachel say.

“That’s so sweet. I miss Parker, I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“Well yeah it’s been what, six months?”

“Something like that.” Patrick says after some pause.

Something like what?? Six months since what exactly? David wants to know, _needs_ to know, but wants to try and respect their privacy. It’s a weird bond that Patrick and Rachel have, that he can’t quite seem to crack. 

“Oh good David, you’re awake!” Pulls him from his thoughts. 

He cranes his neck, turning around slowly. Rachel and Patrick are staring back at him, sweet and expectant. “Yes?” Did they notice he was eavesdropping? “That’s one way of putting it,” David attempts to smile.

Patrick chuckles, while Rachel tries to wave some one over. The two of them may as well be in a fucking Hallmark movie. 

“David,” says Rachel, “Twyla was going to french braid our hair.”

He squints, “Mmm not with that crew cut,” David nods towards Patrick, which makes both him and Rachel laugh. She pulls at the elastic holding her messy bun in place, and shakes out her hair.

“No no, mine and Stevie’s, “ Rachel corrects him gently. “Well when Stevie wakes up, anyway. We were hoping you’d be up for some musical chairs and switch seats around with us.”

David cocks his head as Twyla appears, hovering over all of them. “Hey David. You can take my seat near the back. Don’t worry, half of it is taken up by duffle bags, so you can have it all to yourself. It’s almost like that time my mom took me on a road trip to The Gateway.” 

David wants to ask, but doesn’t. It’s a bit of a dance as he gets up so Twyla can take his spot, then Patrick gets up so she can sit beside Rachel. Eye contact and physical proximity is not something David Rose can handle right now, so he quickly skirts around Patrick and heads towards the back of the bus. 

Leave it to Twyla, the sweetest girl in the class, to volunteer to sit in the seat full of miscellaneous stuff, alone for five hours. He tries resting his head on the scratchy canvas of an upturned duffel. Actually, now that David settles in, this could be quite nice. Alone with his thoughts and no one to bother him. Until he hears some one clear their throat in front of him. 

Patrick is standing there, hands gripping the edges of the seats on either side of him, looking bashful. “Half-awake Stevie decided to spread out. Mind if we squeeze?”

David’s mouth drops as he pieces together what Patrick is suggesting. Squeeze. As in squeeze together in a bus seat that’s already half full with duffel bags. All Patrick does is press his lips together and smile, patiently waiting on David. _Shit. He actually has to say something._

David rambles something along the lines of _yeah no for sure that would be fine,_ but it might as well be gibberish. Patrick breaks out into a full on _grin_ , sliding in beside him. 

It is. A tight squeeze. Patrick’s Mountain Equipment Coop joggers are pressed firmly up against David’s Rick Owens, warm to the touch. They’re practically shoulder to shoulder. 

David dares to turn his head and look Patrick in the eye. He feels naked, even though he has sunglasses to protect him. “Sorry, Stevie stole my coffee from me,” is all he has to excuse his inability to form a full sentence.

Patrick’s eyes dart down, then back up to meet David’s. They sparkle, and his lips are hinting at a grin. (The tease.)

“I noticed.” Patrick says. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for Bob's taste in music comes from my class's trip to Algonquin Park. For some reason the only cd we had was the Mamma Mia soundtrack. 
> 
> Also how cute are Patrick and David??


	6. Unloading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Magnetawan River Provincial Park, traditional lands of the Magnetawan and Shawanaga First Nations

**CHAPTER 6: UNLOADING**

It took only a moment of close proximately for a yawn to come out of one of them, before Patrick had rested his head on David’s shoulder. Then David’s head rested on Patrick’s.

Farmland becomes hills and trees, the hills and trees merge slowly into forests and rocky cliffs. Bob stopped the bus maybe a half hour ago at an En Route, but only half the class had gotten off. Rachel and Twyla had been brave enough to shake Stevie awake, but Patrick and David hadn’t moved. It’s only when the bus pulls up to the loading area does David wake up. 

He blinks, trying to take in his surroundings.

It’s warm and sunny, certainly much later in the day. His back is a little stiff. His neck is basically bent in half. What was wrong with his neck?? His eyes dart around. 

In front of him: grey leather bus seat

To his left: stacks of duffel bags pressed up between him and the window

To his right: grey joggers

Shit. 

The grey joggers belong to Patrick. David’s head is resting on Patrick’s. 

_Fuck._ He covers his mouth before any expletives come out, and jerks his head up. 

Patrick doesn’t seem to notice, stirring only slightly. David doesn’t dare move. If he stays still enough, maybe he can figure out what kind of shampoo Patrick uses. (Stop it, David, _stop it_.) (But telling himself that only makes him want more of what he can’t have.)

Patrick brings a hand to his face and rubs his eyes, slowly drifting to a proper seating position. David watches in horror, preparing for a wave of toxic masculinity to hit, wiping Patrick’s brain of any physical contact they shared.

Patrick’s cheeks are flushed, probably from being smushed against David’s sweater for most of the bus ride. (It’s kind of endearing.) Patrick looks back at David and blinks.

“How long was I out for?”

David presses his lips together. _Not long enough._

“Not long.”

Patrick smiles, as if there’s a secret between the two of them. A shadow comes over his face. Ronnie’s shadow.

“Gentlemen. I’m going to need you to stop sleeping on the job. Now get up and help me unload the back of the bus.”

Patrick attempts to defend himself. (He never wins with Ronnie.) “But I wasn’t-“

“Nope. You can go back to bed after campfire.” Ronnie’s narrowed eyes soften as she shifts focus over to David. “You remembered to wear shoes with treads, David?”

David nods his head. He may or may not have spent an afternoon is his closet, comparing every last sneaker he owned. (He was saved from an incoming panic attack by Alexis calling him to talk about her latest Stavros.) 

“Then let’s go!” Ronnie gestures for them to get up. 

It’s a military operation. David and Patrick form an assembly line, emptying the latter half of the bus of all that was stuffed inside this morning.

Ronnie opens the back door, passing items to a line full of students. Each time some one gets a duffel or and couple canoe paddles, they walk it over to the shore line. David freezes, watching Tennessee and Heather carry a heavy red box, one of the wanigans, over to the pile of things being organized by Roland.

Roland is sorting everything; pointing where canoes should rest, how many paddles should go in each, evenly distributing heavier items, effectively setting up for the first leg of their journey, right alongside the river. 

The water is expansive, calm and still, practically mocking how unsettled David feels on the inside. This is it. No turning back now. He has to sit in a boat for hours. Somehow he had forgotten about that little detail when he fell asleep on the bus ride. 

He feels a hand squeeze his shoulder. Ronnie’s hand.

“Talk to me, David.”

David can’t seem to look at her. His eyes bore through the bus window and past Roland, into the Magnetawan's infinite stretching blue.

_The boat could tip. It’ll have all the tents in it. They’ll sink to the bottom of the lake and we’ll all have to sleep under the stars. Everyone will hate me for it._ _I’ll get soaking wet and my clothes won’t dry and my skin will be like a shrivelled prune and what if I forgot my moisturizer and what if some lake bug crawls into my ear when I’m underwater-_

“David.” Ronnie’s voice is soft, yet clear. (She’s his favourite teacher.)

He turns towards her, ashamed to even begin admitting the thoughts reeling through him. David looks Ronnie in the eye, and sees Patrick behind her, hopping off the back of the bus to join the class.

Ronnie leans against a bus seat, putting a hand on her hip. “You’re going to be alright. I know you don’t necessarily believe people when they tell you that, but you’re in good hands. We’ve got you in Roland’s wife Jocelyn’s boat. She knows the Mag at the back of her hand, so you can take as much time as you need.” Ronnie leans in, whispering “But don’t think you’re getting out of tent set-up.” She raises an eyebrow, smirking. 

This is why Ronnie is his favourite teacher, because she shows him she cares without treating him like the dumb rich kid who didn't know what minimum wage was. (Past tense- he learned about minimum wage on the first day of Ronnie's class.) But something isn’t adding up.

“I- I thought- I thought I’d be in a canoe with Patrick.”

Ronnie rolls her eyes.

“Unfortunately, Boy Scout Brewer is needed to help Roland navigate. You two can catch up when we have to portage. Now check under the seats and make sure no one forgot anything.”

David nods, trying to talk himself down.

 _You can take as much time as you need,_ Ronnie’s words echo in his head.

He repeats to himself over and over, making it a mantra. There’s nothing left under the seats. He climbs off the bus, and heads towards the the canoes and the rest of his class.

Ray and his husband had driven up in their truck, and were now unpacking lunches for everyone out of coolers. The plan is to eat before getting in the water. Ray passes him an egg salad sandwich and a juice box before the mysterious blonde woman who was loading the bus this morning cuts in.

“Hi David,” she coos, “Ronnie told me that boats are not your strong suit,” (was she _winking_ at him?) “so I’m really looking forward to paddling together. I’m Jocelyn. Did you want a nanaimo bar? Or some pie? I find sugar just gets me going before I’m out on the water!” Jocelyn might as well be a soccer mom. Probably _is_ a soccer mom. She’s holding an industrial Tupperware full of homemade dessert up to him with pride.

“Can I have both?” Is all David can manage. He hears Stevie call his name from a picnic table. David grabs the sweets from Jocelyn, trying to juggle his entire lunch as he makes his way over to her. 

“Heard you got stuck with Mrs. Schitt.” Stevie drones, stuffing the last of her ham and cheese into her mouth. David scoffs, joining her on her perch. He doesn’t want to talk about it. 

“At least you’re not third wheeling with Rachel and Twyla,” Stevie says once she swallows her sandwich. 

“What?” David almost drops his nanaimo bar. (Of course he’s having dessert first.)

Stevie shrugs, hopping off the picnic table. She effectively ignores the bomb she just dropped, absentmindedly running fingers over her newly french-braided hair.

“Just remember it’s only a couple hours of your life. I’m assuming you’ve been dehydrated at Coachella for longer.”

“That’s presumptuous.”

Stevie stares him down with a look that says _Am I wrong?_ (She’s not.)

As much as David Rose loves food and wants to scarf everything down, he tells himself the slower he chews, the more time he has before he has to get in a boat. He stows Jocelyne’s pie and half of his sandwich in his fanny pack, watching as Patrick helps Roland start to push canoes closer to the water.

Patrick already has his dumb lifejacket on, and his dumb sunglasses that are built for cycling. He looks like a camp counsellor. (A very cute camp counsellor.)

Ronnie and Ray start collecting the trash from lunch and directing people towards the dock. David watches snapshots of his classmates getting ready while trying to will his body to move: Heather and Ted crouched down by the dock, pointing out snapping turtles while they wait to board their boat. Jake showing off his hand-carved paddle to Felix. Miguel already in the water, cracking his back on the stern of the boat, bathing in the sun.

Sure, everyone in David’s class is extremely attractive, but they’re also very _competent_ people. The kind of kids that were sent to summer camps that didn’t have cell signals, and actually received letters from their parents. The kind of kids who grew up having s’mores in their backyard, not from a fondu pot at their favourite chocolatier. David will never be as comfortable as they are, out here. (He doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel that comfortable, period.) 

He walks slowly down to the pebbly waterfront. At this point, everyone is in the water. There’s only one canoe left on shore, and Jocelyn is standing next to it, calves already submerged in the river. “You ready?”

He swallows and shrugs. He better be ready.

Jocelyn comes up to sit on the stern, bracing the boat in place. David takes a deep breath and bends down, leaning his hands on either side of the boat while he walks himself forward, climbing over to take his place at the bow. He hears the rocks scrape the boat as Jocelyn pushes it forward into the water, climbing in without a sound. 

  
David grips his paddle, gingerly dipping it into the river. He tries to stare right ahead of them and keep focused on where they’re going. It’s practically a fleet of canoes. (Would you call it a fleet?) But his eyes rest on a head of auburn hair, glinting in the sun. 

  
And just like that, they’re off.


	7. As the Sun Goes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> portage: the carrying of a boat or its cargo between two navigable waters

**CHAPTER 7: AS THE SUN GOES DOWN**

David is grunting and sweating, strap of tumpline stuck across his forehead. His hands grip the leather on either side of him, attached the monstrosity of the wooden red box resting on his backside. Everything about this is unpleasant and painful, especially in the late afternoon sun. Especially in a sweater. (Why was he still wearing a sweater??)

The first leg of canoeing had been- okay. Luckily, there hadn’t been even a hint of a breeze, and with Jocelyn confidently steering, their boat remained quite still. Regardless of the likelihood of the boat tipping, David’s muscles had remained locked in place; alert to every bug around them, any stick or leaf floating in the water, and any physical adjustments Jocelyn was making. The rational part of him knew he shouldn’t worry so much, but that creeping feeling in his gut told him otherwise. He still breathed through his nose, unable to unclench his jaw. But Jocelyn didn’t seem to mind. She had taken a page from Patrick’s book, talking about everything and nothing so to give David a gentle soundtrack and allow him to focus on the water ahead. 

But now it was time to portage; the river water was low and full of rocks, so they needed to transport all their gear over the shallow area and to another shore. It was David’s guilt in being the weak link that drove him to pick up the wanigan. He regretted it now, but needed to do something that showed his classmates he wasn’t a joke. (And after seeing the ballet that was Ted and Miguel lifting a canoe over their heads, he needed something else to focus on.)

He looks down and sees a pair hiking shoes fall in step with him, mauve shoelaces and all. Only one person can make Merrells look that cute.

“How ya doing?” Rachel asks, clad in a buff that pushes back her French braids. (Twyla did a great job.) She somehow has a duffel strapped over each shoulder, and is carrying another in her hands.  David huffs, trying to move his shoulders around in the compromising position that is carrying a heavy wooden box across one’s back.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine.”

Rachel smiles, like she actually believes his bullshit. “I don’t know if anyone’s said so, but you’re doing great.”

He rotates his upper half slightly, trying to look her in the eye. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m slowing the whole class down.”

She looks back at him, incredulous. “You think I do this every weekend? I went on one girl scout’s camping trip, and it was in cabins _with_ electricity. I asked my mom to go home as soon as we pulled into the parking lot.”

David laughs breathlessly, unable to fully emote with a leather strap pulling at his forehead. 

“I just thought this was something people like you and Patrick were used to. You seem so built for it and I am-“

“A city boy lost in the woods?”

“I was going to say out of my element.”

Rachel giggles. “Even so, I’m happy you’re here, David.” She says, smiling back warmly at him. “You know no one’s really thinking about your skills, or lack thereof. We’re all just trying to keep up.”

David stops in his tracks, accidentally leaving Rachel to walk in front of him. 

_We’re all just trying to keep up._

***

David sits on the smooth stone of island shore, watching the gentle river water lap at its edges. His abandoned second helping of chilli is beside him, watercolour pad in his lap. Since tonight’s dinner is an easy one, Ray has taken advantage of the clear sky and has everyone starting on their first art assignment of the trip. The class is all spread out along the shoreline, each with their own paint set, trying to recreate the sunset currently blazing across the Magnetawan River. 

It’s unlike anything David has ever seen before, and his parents’ beach house is prime sunset real estate. The pinks and reds blend seamlessly into the flaming orange of the trees, sandwiching the still water. It’s a kind of peace that David has never felt before. Or maybe he’s just extra appreciative to be on solid ground.

He touches his heavily saturated brush to the page, letting it drain its contents. David Rose doesn’t care. He puts a lot of focus and concentration whenever he’s doing his fine line, minimalist sketches; there’s never room for error. With watercolour, he can simply fill his piece with colour, full of crashes and contrasts. If he sees a mistake, he could probably just go over it. (The paper is thick enough.) David Rose doesn’t care, and it’s the most relaxed he’s felt since starting the semester. 

“Ooh David,” Ray gushes from behind, standing over him to see his work. “Looks like this one may be mouse pad material!” David frowns. (Why have a proper art show when you can have your students' work adorn the computer lab back at public school?)

“That’s not really on brand for me Ray, but thank you.” 

Ray smiles anyway, crouching down to sit next to David. He gestures for the watercolour pad. David hands it over, finally getting to return to his food. Ray stares at the half-finished painting, then looks back at him.

“David, I know you had your trepidations about this program, but your art is really going to thrive in this environment.” Ray lowers his voice, “And between you and I, it’s not everyone’s strong suit. I might end end up having you _help_ some of your classmates later on in the semester.” David raises his eyebrows, and Ray gestures his chin over to the other side of the shore. 

Ray’s gaze is in fact directed towards Patrick, who is furiously taking his eraser to paper, paint set sitting neglected beside him. _Oh._ Ray looks back at David and winks. _Winks._

“Anyways, don’t forget to bring your poetry anthology to campfire tonight!” Ray gets up and dusts himself off. He quickly scans the class, trying to remember who he hasn’t spoken to yet, before turning back to David. “Oh and I hope you like sing-alongs to Carol King’s _Tapestry_!”

David shudders. (He loves Carol King, but knows for a fact that Ray can’t hold a note.) He returns to his watercolours, mixing yellows and umbers to try and find something close to gold. He runs it through his evening sky, accenting to add dimension. And maybe a little mystery. He’s staring back at his completed creation when Roland decides to yell from the campfire. (The campfire that’s at least 200 metres away.) (Couldn't he just walk over to them?)

“Let’s pack it up everyone. I need y’all to put on another layer of bug spray before the mosquitoes come out!”

Ew.

David practically jumps to his feet, stopping to neatly put away his watercolour set before making a beeline to his and Stevie’s tent. 

The class is drifting back to camp, showing each other the progress on their landscapes, and chatting about what they’ve prepared for campfire. Patrick is staring at his work while walking, and from what David can see the page is blank. He clears his throat. Patrick looks up from his work, face red. (He probably got sunburnt while they were canoeing.) (That boy needed to reapply like they were underneath a hole in the ozone.)

“Couldn’t finish,” he says sheepishly. “Told you art’s not my strong suit.”

David hums, taking in the layers of attempted outlines in pencil, complete with eraser treads.

“You’ll get there I’m sure,” he tries to sound encouraging, just like when Patrick coaches him through canoe strokes. 

“Thank you, I’m trying.” Patrick is almost pouting. “But y’know,” he looks up at David through his eyelashes. _His eyelashes._ “The river is actually more beautiful at night. After the sun goes down.” His smile spreads across his whole face. Like he knows something David doesn’t.

“Oh?” Is all David can manage.

Patrick leans in and whispers, “Just you wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust Patrick on this one!


	8. A Snuggly Bed and Midnight Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> campfire: an open-air fire in a camp, used for cooking and as a focal point for social activity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title and song lyrics are from Kimya Dawson's Utopian Futures, a soft jam that deserves to be sung fireside

** CHAPTER 8: A SNUGGLY BED AND MIDNIGHT TALKS **

After the “official” part of campfire, where Ray guided the class through a few poems and short stories, it turned into a bit of an open mic. Ray wasn’t kidding about Carol King, but what surprised David was just how _talented_ people were. It was his foggy mid-caffeinated morning brain that hadn’t noticed Patrick and Twyla had brought their guitars with them, and somehow had encyclopedic knowledge of both “classics” (Roland’s words, not his), and top 40 (that was more so Twyla than Patrick, but he picked up chord signatures very easily). 

_Of course_ Patrick can sing beautifully. Why should he be so surprised? 

Twyla hands her guitar over to Felix, and gets up from the stump she’s sitting on to fix herself a mug of tea. Rachel watches her walk away and runs a hand over a braid, then turns to Patrick, gently elbowing him.

“You remember Utopian Futures?”

Patrick chuckles and adjusts his capo. “I think so.” 

The only light around them is the fire, Patrick’s face washed in a warm glow. David wants to look away, but he can’t. Patrick has this soft look in his eyes whenever he’s talking to Rachel, and David Rose is not a fan. (Why can’t Patrick look at _him_ like that?)

He starts to strum, smiling back at her. Everyone else is invited to join in, but it may as well be the duet from _Juno._ It’s too cute. Why does it have to be cute??

_There's nobody living by the clock_

_And every door is left unlocked_

_Cause property died all alone and capitalism lost its home_

_There's plenty of fresh air here in town_

_And plants are growing on the cars_

_And all of the streets are used for dancing_

_And at night you see all the stars_

Rachel and Patrick yell “all the stars,” which is probably some sort of private joke between them. Their classmates smile and laugh, more people starting to pick the song up when they reach the chorus. David doesn’t get it. Why would Stevie say they’re not together when they are clearly so _cozy_ and _comfortable_ with each other? Ew. He can’t take sitting across the fire and staring at their happy faces in the gloam. And his ears are cold. He gets up unceremoniously, and makes his way down the path to his tent.

He and Stevie were able to find a clearing a little deeper into the wood. It was in part to get away from everyone, _(Twyla will want to do morning yoga and you do not want to get roped into that.)_ partly because Stevie was pushing his buttons about moths being attracted to campfire light. Stevie is already inside, sleeping bag pooled at her hips, working on a charcoal sketch by the light of her headlamp. She’s wearing an oversized flannel, buttons lopsided, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. It’s a cute look for her.

“Finally got tired of the kumbuya circle?” She asks, not looking up. 

He doesn’t directly answer. “My ears got cold. Can you please make sure you wash your grubby paws before we go to sleep? I don’t need your wandering charcoal smeared all over my face when you have a night terror.”

Stevie looks at him daringly, then uses an entire palm to smudge her work. “But that’s part of my artistic process.” She says, faking innocence. 

David rolls his eyes, peeling off his shoes and climbing into his sleeping bag. “I just want to read for a bit, then go to bed.” He pulls his duffel into his lap, rooting around for his novel.

David gets lost between pages as Stevie’s charcoal gently scratches beside him. It’s peaceful. It’s nice. He had purchased a brand new four season sleeping bag as a precautionary measure, and now he's warm enough that he doesn't need a sweater. He can’t remember the last time he went to sleep next to some one. Apart from his mother’s brief visit home when he was packing, he’s been alone in the country house since school started. He tells himself he likes it that way, but being in the tent with Stevie reminds him how much he actually needs other people around. 

“Knock knock,” says a voice from outside the tent. David jumps in his sleeping bag. It could very well be a serial killer. 

“We don’t want any.” Stevie says, unbothered. 

“That’s nice Stevie, but it’s David I’m looking for,” which sounds a lot like Patrick. Stevie finally looks up from her work, face reeking of satisfaction.

“Why?” David croaks. Doesn’t Patrick have better things to do? Like find a big tree to go make out with Rachel behind?

“David, can you come outside? I turned my headlamp off so you won’t be at the mercy of mosquitoes”

Stevie slaps his leg with the back of her charcoal covered hand. _Go,_ she mouths. He glares back at her, silently communicating what’s on his shirt ( _Don’t_ ).

“K fine, but you better reek of citronella,” David says, crawling out of his sleeping bag to put his shoes back on. He unzips the tent and darts out, foot getting caught on the bottom. _Shit._

David trips directly into Patrick, who somehow catches his forearms in his hands. Oh, wow. So these are the strong hands that can wield a canoe. If David wasn’t already fucked, being touched starved is just digging a deeper hole. (Also, Patrick _does_ reek of citronella. And campfire. And boy.) (David never thought that scent palette would be _nice_ , let alone attractive, but turns out it is. Very much so.)

Patrick isn’t fazed by David’s tumble, sliding his palms so his hands find David’s. 

“You ready?” He whispers, quiet enough so Stevie probably can’t hear them.

“For what?” David tries to meet him at the same level.

It’s certainly dark, but David can see Patrick’s eyebrow twitch in the moonlight. 

“You’ll see. Let’s go.”

Patrick guides David around their tent, taking a route off the main path. Only Ted and Miguel are left at the campfire, laughing as Miguel stumbles through some country-esque tune _._ Luckily, they’re too focused on each other, and the trees provide excellent coverage. Patrick reaches back and grabs David’s hand. David tells himself it’s because Patrick doesn’t want him to trip again. 

He takes them to the inlet where Roland has stored the canoes, complete with obnoxious blue tarps draped over everything. David can see a little more now that they’re out of the wood. Patrick lets go of his hand, and starts the pull out one of the canoes.

“What are you doing?” David whispers, harshly. He wraps his arms around his chest, only now realizing he forgot to put a sweater back on.

“We’re going on a paddle, David.” Patrick looks back up at him, having effectively wrestled a canoe into a seating position. 

“Wh-“ David tries gesticulating at the boat and the water, and the position of the moon. Has Patrick learned _anything?_ David doesn’t want to be in a boat unless he _absolutely_ has to. 

“Trust me.” Patricks says, then leans over to shove the boat in the water.

David takes a slow breath before grabbing lifejackets and paddles. He wants to trust Patrick, he really does. Maybe that’s why he’s not putting up a fight. 

Once they get suited up, Patrick nods to the boat, gesturing for David to climb in. He scrunches his eyebrows and takes another slow breath before climbing delicately inside. David steps quietly to the front of the boat, catching the dark, still water beneath him. Something tugs at his insides, telling him to turn around. When he does, Patrick is staring back at him, holding the canoe steady, and his breath catches. If he looked beautiful by the light of the campfire, the moonlight makes him absolutely gorgeous. David is too stunned to move forward, sinking down into the seat instead, still facing Patrick.

Patrick breaks out into a smile, gently pushing the boat further into the water, then effortlessly climbing in. He settles into the seat at the stern, eyes not leaving David. All it takes is one gentle pull of his paddle, and they’re drifting away from shore. 


	9. Well Met By Moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confessions over a late night paddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Midsummer Night's Dream (kind of). Feel free to ignore the laws of physics in this chapter.

** CHAPTER 9: WELL MET BY MOONLIGHT **

Sunset on the Magnetewan River pales in comparison to the stillness of nighttime. As calming as it is to stay focused on Patrick, his eyes are everywhere. Never in his life has David Rose seen this many stars. They’re sprinkled throughout the sky, absolutely covering the blackness until they reach the trees. David wants to reach out with his hands and scoop them up, catching handfuls of glittering jewels to keep. The moon is full and glowing, casting a gentle sheen over the calm water. The only sound David hears, if any, is the slightest dip when Patrick’s paddle makes contact with the river. He moves the boat with ease and purpose, allowing them to drift into a cliffside area, hugging the water in a crescent shape. 

When David looks down, he notices _mist_ coming out of the water, _twirling_ before it evaporates in the air. It feels so magical, it may as well be Christmas morning. His mouth hangs open, trying to burn all this into memory.

“The fairies are dancing,” Patrick whispers delightfully, following David’s gaze.

David is confused.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Patrick chuckles, looking down at his lap. (Can you see boys blush under moonlight?)

“My dad used to tell me stories like that when I was little. Still does.”

David hums. “My dad doesn’t know how to talk to me.”

Patrick smiles, understanding, but doesn’t respond. They sit in comfortable silence, watching the fairies dance.

Maybe it’s the quiet, maybe it’s the moon. Maybe it’s the anonymity of the dark, but David is feeling brave.

“You know if you wanted to learn… To do a landscape like this one,” his eyes make a big circle, sweeping across the starry sky and black ribbon of river, “I could help you, y’know.”

Patrick smiles back at him. “So you came to the public school board’s outdoor program for the art then? It wasn’t your parents forcing you to enjoy fresh air?”

David shakes his head softly. “It was my choice. Though when Roland called my parents about that first time I got in a canoe, my mother was very excited about the opportunity to _work through my inner demons and rise to the occasion_ ,” David finger quotes. 

Patrick is perplexed, so David fills him in. “She’s an actress, don’t worry about it.”

“Ah,” Patrick nods, dipping his paddle in again. “So why’d you stay?”

“The people.” David’s mouth pricks up at the corner, having admitted to something he hasn’t told anyone before. “That and the idea of going back to a public school classroom makes me want to gouge my eyes out.” Patrick nods in sympathy. He opens his mouth to ask what is probably another question, but David’s had enough of talking about himself. This is a two-way conversation.

“What about you? You and Rachel wanted a cute semester of camping instead of gazing into each other’s eyes during trigonometry?”

Patrick’s eyebrows pull together, face overcome with confusion. “What?”

David shrugs, waiting for Patrick to give him more than a one word answer. Patrick takes his paddle out of the water and puts it in his lap, leaning forward.

“Rachel and I grew up next door neighbours. Friends, like Scout Finch and Dill. Her family moved to the country about six months ago, so we just haven’t seen each other as much as we used to.”

Now David is the one who is confused. He thinks back to his first day on the bridge, Rachel and Patrick peering at said characters in his sketchbook.

“Scout Finch and Dill? Why would you compare your friendship to two queer-coded characters from _To Kill A Mockingbird_?”

Patrick rubs a hand over his face, almost as if he’s in pain.

“ _David._ Don’t you get what I’m trying to tell you? We’re both gay.”

_What._

“Yep. It only took a year of dating each other in grade nine to finally realize that.”

David’s jaw drops. (Apparently all he needed was Patrick to flat out tell him the facts.) (In retrospect, that would’ve saved him a lot of time.) He blinks, trying to make an imaginary sculpture in front of him with his hands.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

Patrick is practically laughing now. “You’re not stupid. You may be lost in your head a lot of the time, but you are certainly not stupid.”

David huffs. “Thanks so much.”

The grin on Patrick is almost impish. “Guess I threw you for a change-up there, huh?”

The puzzles pieces are shifting into place. 

“So you took me. On a canoe ride. At night. Because you wanted to?”

“That’s correct,” Patrick whispers.

“Because you wanted to keep helping me with my anxiety? Or because when we finished art class you said the water was pretty at night?”

Patrick puts his paddle back in the water, patient enough for David to work his way to a conclusion. He looks him directly in the eye.

“Because I like you, David.”

_Oh._

“Oh. Okay.” He feels a smile spread, moonlight soft on his face.

“And I didn’t want us to finish trip without having said that. To you.” Patrick is looking at him through his eyelashes again, then he looks back down at his paddle.

Maybe it’s the calm that’s washed over him. Maybe it’s Patrick’s steadiness that he’s leaning into. Maybe it’s the new feeling in his chest, this sense if _pulling._

The only logical explanation is that the dancing mist fairies have possessed David’s body, because he now finds himself getting up, walking himself down the narrow shell of the boat, and kneeling in front of Patrick.

Patrick is stunned by David’s sudden burst of confidence. His paddle is still in the water, anchoring them in place, but no longer taking up Patrick’s focus. 

“Hi,” David whispers. The silver mouth of the canoe is cold on his hands, but David Rose feels like he’s on fire. `

“Hi,” Patrick whispers back. His eyes may as well be sparkling with the stars.

Patrick watches as David delicately lifts his hands, testing if he feels comfortable enough to keep himself balanced. (He doesn’t. Not yet, at least.) He keeps a hold on the sides of the boat, leaning up to kiss Patrick’s mouth. 

It’s an instant rush. Any echo of tension he was holding dissipates, like water slipping off a duck’s back. Patrick’s hands come up between them, placing the paddle back in his lap, reaching out to hold David’s face to his. Patrick sighs, almost laughing into the kiss. His lips are soft, a little chapped from a day of baking in the sun, but they’re the best lips David has kissed in a while. 

It’s Patrick that pulls them apart. 

“You okay?” He looks at David, face washed in concern. 

David bites his lip. As much as he wants to get back to kissing, his body _can’t_ with him right now.

“Um. This is kind of an uncomfortable position for me to be in. So if we could change that. That would be nice.” He grimaces. He doesn’t want Patrick to be making all the compromises for him. He wants to be the one who can carry the wanigan. (Sometimes.) Patrick chuckles, somehow more lit up than he was before. 

It takes some manoeuvring, getting David to back up, and coming down to sit at the base of the canoe. David remains crouched up in a ball, still holding onto the sides of the boat, watching as Patrick spreads his legs out in front of him. He props his paddle between his leg and the canoe’s side, back resting on the seat.

“C’mere,” Patrick gestures to David. 

David tentatively walks himself forward, still crouched. Patrick opens his arms. David turn himself around and falls into them glacially, hands still resting on the sides of the canoe. Patrick wraps his arm around David’s middle, breath teasing the back of his neck.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” David whispers, gaze travelling from their entwined limbs, up to the glittering night sky.

“Mhm,” Patrick hums, pressing a kiss to David’s neck, right behind his ear. David grins, leaning back into Patrick’s solid frame. 

Patrick holds him tighter. “We can stay out as long as you like, though I wouldn’t recommend falling asleep on the open water,” he whispers in David’s ear.

David sighs. “I can’t believe I wish this trip was more than five days. Who am I?” He feels Patrick’s laughter radiate from his chest, gently shaking him. He rolls his eyes, gently lifting one hand to reach for Patrick’s face. 

“David Rose, there’s still a whole semester ahead of us.”

David shifts his head to the side, craning his neck to kiss Patrick’s cheek. It’s _really_ nice. The mist continues to dance around their canoe, as they tilt their heads back and watch the night sky. David Rose is in the middle of nowhere, in the arms of a beautiful boy. This, he could certainly get used to. 

He thinks about making a call to his parents when he gets home from trip and has cell service again. Maybe he _does_ want to stay at the country house after the semester has run its course. But for now, all he can do, all he _has_ to do, is keep breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twirling mist is a real thing. Two teenage boys sitting safely at the back of a canoe with nothing else in it... maybe?
> 
> If you've made it this far, thank you, thank you, thank you! This fic is easily the most challenging thing I've written and actually published. It also comes with a mood board and playlist if ever you're curious.💕
> 
> *UPDATE, AUG 3* sportsfest authors have been revealed, yay! Part 2 in the editing stages and will be posted soon... I love this little world so much and want to stay in it, so if you have any questions/prompts/things you'd like to see, please let me know. You can come find me @kindofspecifstore on tumblr.


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